


your head on my shoulder

by nocturneatmidnight



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i guess?????, implied izuleo if u squint, knights family moments because i can't help myself, rei is mentioned for like 2 secs, ritsu take care of yourself u dummy, this is probably more ritsu-centric than anything tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturneatmidnight/pseuds/nocturneatmidnight
Summary: His head felt as if a thousand needles had pierced through his skull, causing cracks to form and split bone. A newborn Athena threw tantrums inside that fragile structure all the while, waving fists and drumming against the inside of Ritsu’s noggin. An endless pressure insistently squeezed at his fragile brain, making his temples throb and everything,everythingjust seem like far too much today.But he was fine. This was fine. Everything was fine, really.
Relationships: Isara Mao/Sakuma Ritsu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	your head on my shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> i got a headache, rested for a couple of hours and proceeded to write this in a frenzy. it be like that sometimes

Ritsu’s head hurt.

Things like this were happening more often lately- a little lightheadedness here, a little pounding headache there. It wasn’t a big deal. At all. It wasn’t as if any of this kept Ritsu from focusing any more than he usually did (read: not focusing at all) in his already mind-numbing classes, or stopped him from going through his usual routines of trying to get Mao to spoil him as much as humanly possible. These headaches were just inconveniences, that was all- nothing groundbreaking, nothing to write home about. And _certainly_ nothing to write to Mao or Knights or, god forbid, his older brother about. Ritsu was handling this just fine himself.

He was fine. He was _fine,_ no matter how many concerned looks Arashi shot him during class, no matter how many times Mao asked him if he was okay. No matter how Kunugi-sensei, of all people, asked him if he needed to visit the infirmary rather than sit through math. No matter how four sets of worried eyes stayed fixed upon him throughout practice after school that day, as if looking at him hard enough would make him spill the beans, would stop the figurative hammer from bashing at his head to the rhythm of the song they were practising.

His head felt as if a thousand needles had pierced through his skull, causing cracks to form and split bone. A newborn Athena threw tantrums inside that fragile structure all the while, waving fists and drumming against the inside of Ritsu’s noggin. An endless pressure insistently squeezed at his fragile brain, making his temples throb and everything, _everything_ just seem like far too much today.

But he was fine. This was fine. Everything was fine, really.

 _Really_. Knights had a live tonight, one that would be held in a massive auditorium jam-packed with overenthusiastic fans. Knights couldn’t afford to disappoint them. _Ritsu_ couldn’t afford to disappoint them.

So he waved off the concern, and threw himself into practice. His body was sluggish today, even more so than usual, and protested every move Ritsu forced it to make. Its protests didn’t matter. This headache didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that Ritsu had to get himself together in time for the live in a couple of hours, all without bothering his unitmates who definitely had better things to be worrying about than an exhausted vampire who was too weak to function on his own.

Mao had been increasingly busy lately, what with Trickstar work and student council work and Mao Work- the last of which being all the things he did for people not out of legal obligation, but simply because he wanted to. _(Dummy,_ Ritsu thought as he carried out some complicated footwork and only _just_ managed it, a near-stumble sending darts of pain through his skull.) Ritsu was well aware that the last thing Mao needed right now was a handicap, an extra thing to take care of. Hence, telling Mao about his now-frequent headaches was completely out of the question- Mao would worry, and end up doting on Ritsu far more than he had time for. It’d be pure heaven for Ritsu, sure, but Ritsu wasn’t going to be selfish. He _wasn’t._ He was going to deal with these stupid headaches on his own, and prove to Mao that he could handle himself. That he could be independent. That someday, the two of them would be able to run hand in hand together, side by side on equal ground, and not with Mao pulling Ritsu along behind him all the time.

He’d get through this himself.

The live that night was noisy- as expected, of course, yet it didn’t make the persistent pain in Ritsu’s head any less excruciating. Knights took the stage to a cacophony of yells and cheers, high-pitched squeals from a couple of fans making Ritsu wonder when the needles poking through his head had been replaced by spears. He got into his starting position alongside his unitmates- who had asked Ritsu multiple times backstage if he was well enough to proceed with the live, to which Ritsu had replied yes, _yes,_ please stop asking- and the show began.

It started off well enough, Ritsu stubbornly ignoring the steady thrumming of his head that was amplified by music blasting through speakers. He sang even as the volume of his own voice through the microphone made him want to wince, let muscle memory guide his body through the dance movements he’d drilled into himself. And then they were finally on their last song, and Ritsu dared to huff a shallow sigh of relief. He was nearly there. He’d nearly made it through-

That was when a blinding pain seared through his temples, squeezing his eyes instinctively shut and a pushing a gasp from his lips. He stumbled, only forcing himself upright at the very last minute, narrowly avoiding bumping into Tsukasa. His breathing came quicker, heavier, and he could feel tears threatening to leak from his eyes. His mic wasn’t on, was it? No, Leo was still singing, and Ritsu’s next part would be in a couple of turns- _fuck._ Ritsu’s hands trembled as he danced near-mechanically, feeling his junior’s eyes on him as he moved. That stumble had been obvious, then- obvious enough for the rest of Knights to notice. He could only pray to every single non-existent god out there that the audience hadn’t.

Ritsu got through his part somehow, mind foggy in a daze of pain and anxiety- and then it was over. Knights took their bows, Ritsu’s head threatening to snap right off his neck and tumble to the ground as he did, and before long, they were making their way backstage. _Almost, almost-_

The curtains swept shut, and Ritsu fell to his knees.

 _Fuck._ It was as if the insides of his head were a miniature universe going through the big bang, sending chunks of debris and entire planets flying, slamming against the confines of his aching skull. Ritsu brought his shaking palms up to the sides of his head, pressing, fighting the urge to dig deep with his nails and rip whatever it was that was causing this headache straight out of his body. His head was in a bubble, muffling every one his senses, yet he could still hear voices, cries of _Ritsu-chan_ and _Kuma-kun,_ footsteps quaking the earth he was so desperately trying to shut out. There were hands on his shoulders, palms over his own, and the external volume grew louder, louder. Ritsu’s head was nothing but a child’s floating balloon, waiting to be pricked and burst-

_“Shut up!”_

The shout of that single command damn near did Ritsu in, but surviving it brought him a temporary bliss he hadn’t felt all day. The world fell silent save the soft sounds of breathing, and the only words he heard were whispered orders being given in a quick, urgent fashion. It still hurt, but compared to the volume of the live he’d just participated in, this was manageable. _Secchan,_ came the idle realisation, as well as a rush of relief.

He was moved, as gently as possible, so he was lying on his side, an arm instinctively coming up to keep the harsh glow of the lights backstage from piercing through his eyelids. His head was pillowed on something soft, someone whose scent he recognised- Secchan, again. _Interesting._ Amidst the pounding of his head, Ritsu waited for the inevitable lecture, the beration for doing a live even as he felt on the very edge of death itself, for risking Knights’ good reputation and standards- but it never came. Izumi stayed quiet, and every so often, Ritsu felt him simply nod or shake his head in response to questions Ritsu couldn’t quite make out.

 _Fall asleep, fall asleep._ The chant made itself clear in the addled mess that was his brain, yet for once, sleep eluded him. The universe’s idea of a sick joke, probably. Sleeping would grant him oblivion, sparing him from the neverending torture that was his split head, but life was seldom that easy. Ritsu squeezed his eyes shut tighter still, curling into a ball and clutching at his skull so hard he was sure his hands were white-knuckled by now.

There was a faraway hitch in breath, then, one that Ritsu’s ears had to strain to hear yet came far too loud for him in his oversensitivity. Footsteps, ones he’d have to be dead not to recognise, made light as they crossed the wooden floors-

“Maa-kun,” Ritsu mumbled, trying to push his body upwards into a sitting position, no matter how futile the attempt seemed to be. A little more futile than before, perhaps, when Izumi (firmly yet gently, so gently, what had Ritsu done to deserve this treatment rather than brashness and shoves) pressed his shoulders back down.

“Don’t get up yet, idiot,” Izumi muttered, even as he shifted beneath Ritsu in what Ritsu assumed to be preparation for handing him off to Mao.

_“Ritsu!”_

Ritsu forced his eyes open a sliver, and there was Mao, eyes wide and expression laden with worry. _Ah,_ Ritsu thought to himself dimly, _I’ve failed._ He’d let Mao find out about this whole fiasco, and had made him worry. There went all of Ritsu’s attempts at showing Mao he could handle himself. He was a burden again, someone to be coddled and taken care of. Someone who couldn’t be left on his own for two seconds without spontaneously erupting into flames. (Figurative ones, he hoped. Flames and vampires didn’t go well together.)

A cool palm cupped his cheek, and Ritsu leaned into the touch gratefully. His body felt like it was overheating from the stress of both the headache and the live, and Mao’s hands were a pleasant source of relief- never mind the fact that it was usually Ritsu with the cold hands, not the other way around. Izumi was talking to Arashi somewhere overhead (was it Arashi who had brought Mao here, then?), and then there were more voices, more that he recognised. Leo, Tsukasa, Sagami-sensei, even- oh _god,_ no-

“Onii-chan,” Ritsu felt more than heard himself mumble under his breath, the phrase unintentionally falling from his lips before he even registered it. _Ugh._ Then, louder, as if to overpower the surges of relief that had made their way through his chest even as the voices of those he loved made his head feel as if the hammer was back, smashing against his skull again and again- “Go away, Anija.”

No doubt Rei couldn’t even hear him, but that was fine. The protest was more out of custom than anything. There was a soft sigh, and then Ritsu was being lifted, carefully gathered in someone’s arms. Ritsu turned to bury his face in the fabric of Mao’s t-shirt, letting the familiar scent of him calm his nerves and distract him from the agony of his throbbing head. He wrapped his arms around Mao as securely as he could, not trusting himself not to lose his grip and tumble to the ground. Not that Mao would let that happen to him, of course.

“Let’s go,” Mao said softly, and Ritsu felt a featherlight kiss being pressed to his hair. Then Mao was standing up, swaying Ritsu in what Ritsu imagined to be the least amount possible, and the world finally, _finally_ faded to black.

It was dark when Ritsu next pried his eyes open, a dull ache still persisting beneath his skull yet worlds better than the unbearable pain he’d been experiencing before. The sheets he was laying on were soft and familiar, and the duvet he’d been tucked into was warm and comforting. There was something far more warm and comforting by his side, however- something- no, someone Ritsu only noticed after rolling over with a groan.

“Ritchan,” came a gentle murmur, accompanied by fingers lightly stroking his hair. Mao was sitting cross-legged beside Ritsu, leaning against the vampire’s bedroom wall with a textbook in hand. The childhood nickname soothed both Ritsu’s head and worries for just a moment, before they both returned with a wicked vengeance. “You awake?”

Ritsu winced, shutting his eyes again as he burrowed deeper into the blankets. He shook his head in response to Mao’s question, earning himself a slight huff of laughter and the sound of a book being closed. The book was set aside, and then Mao was getting under the covers with him, body sharing its warmth. If Ritsu had been overheating earlier, he was _freezing_ now, and he snuggled closer to Mao in an attempt to stave off the cold. He wanted to fall back asleep, to escape the sparks of pain his head was still producing from time to time, but…

“I’m sorry,” Ritsu mumbled, hoping that Mao could hear him. Now that he thought about it, he should apologise to Knights, too- he’d fucked up, badly, and surely all of them knew it. “I didn’t mean to get you involved.”

Mao gave a soft hum, wrapping his arms around Ritsu and making the latter positively _melt_ into him. “Wrong thing to be apologising for, don’t you think? Try again.”

 _What?_ Ritsu blinked his eyes open, looking up at Mao in vague confusion. Mao gazed at him expectantly. “I’m… sorry for getting a headache like that?”

“Nope.” Mao gave him a gentle poke in the cheek- a reprimand, no doubt. “Try again. Third and last time.”

“I-” Ritsu wracked his brain for a reply that would satisfy Mao, and came up empty-handed. What else _was_ there? “I don’t know. Maa-kun-”

Mao sighed, and Ritsu fell silent, feeling uncharacteristically tense. Fear crawled up the back of his spine, bringing with it whispers of _he’s angry_ and _the two of you are done for_ and _you just can’t do anything right._ Ritsu gripped at his sheets, throat going dry as he waited for the hammer to fall.

“Ritsu,” Mao said slowly, as if he was waiting for each syllable to sink in before continuing, “you’re sorry for not telling anyone- literally _anyone_ that you had a headache so bad you passed out. For performing a fucking live with that kind of thing, with zero regard as to what could’ve happened to yourself-” Mao’s voice was getting louder and more terse by the second, and Ritsu winced again, fighting the urge to cover his ears. He and Mao were centimetres apart, after all, and Ritsu’s headache hadn’t completely faded yet. Mao seemed to catch on to this quickly, however, immediately lowering his voice before continuing. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt performing in that condition, you know that? What were you thinking, Ritchan?”

That last question came softer, gentler. Like Mao truly wanted to know. Like he wasn’t exasperated and tired of Ritsu needing to be looked after all the time. 

Ritsu's heart ached a little as he caught the worry in Mao's tone, as well. "I didn't want to bother you," Ritsu mumbled, keeping his eyes on the collar of Mao's sleepwear rather than his face. Maybe it was the pain from his headache that was lulling him into speaking his mind, something he wouldn't ordinarily do when it came to topics like this. "Any of you. Everyone's busy with their own stuff, and I wanted to deal with this myself. Be independent, for once."

Mao didn’t reply for a few moments, and Ritsu briefly wondered if he’d fallen asleep. If so, Ritsu would simply follow his lead and hope they both forgot about this entire conversation the next morning. No such luck, however, as he lifted his head and found Mao’s gaze directly on his. _Oops._

“Ritchan, listen to me.” Mao reached out to gently thumb over Ritsu’s cheekbone, and it was all Ritsu could do not to chase the touch like a cat after a laser. “Being independent doesn’t mean you can’t rely on the people around you. No one sees you as a bother, or a burden. None of us would ever turn you away if you asked for help.” A palm, cupping his cheek. _Warm._ “Even people like Sena-senpai, who’d complain about it for days but still lend you a hand. You know that, don’t you?”

He did know. He did- had he just forgotten? “I didn’t want to worry any of you.”

“It didn’t work anyways,” Mao said, not unkindly. “You could’ve saved everyone way more worry if you’d just told us from the start, you know? I’m pretty sure Knights would have cancelled the live if you’d come clean about how bad your head was feeling.”

Ritsu traced an absent-minded finger over Mao’s collarbone. “That wouldn’t have been very good for Knights.”

“It wouldn't have been very good for Knights if you’d collapsed on stage, either,” Mao retorted. His tone softened, then, as he carefully tucked a lock of hair behind Ritsu’s ear. “Just- talk to us next time, okay? Nobody will fault you for it. I promise.”

Ritsu sighed. Both his mind and body were exhausted, and he had no idea what time it was. Mao’s warmth and voice were soothing, tempting Ritsu with the sweet allure of sleep. He was clearly in no shape to be arguing with his boyfriend about any of this. “...Fine. Maybe.”

Mao wasn’t one to break his promises, after all.

There was a chaste kiss pressed to his forehead as Ritsu let his eyes fall shut again, breathing growing deep and even. “Goodnight, Ritchan,” Mao murmured, a quiet lullaby that tenderly pulled Ritsu to the embrace of dreams. “Rest well, okay?”

And then, mere seconds before Ritsu surrendered to said embrace (as well as Mao's)- “I love you, Ritchan.”

_I love you, too._

•••

_“Rittsu!”_

Ritsu stumbled backwards as he hurried to accommodate the weight of an entire Tsukinaga Leo leaping into his arms. Leo clung to him like a koala, nuzzling his cheek against Ritsu’s school blazer as if it was the most comfortable thing in the world, as if Ritsu wasn’t currently staggering for balance in the doorway of Knights’ studio. “Ousama,” Ritsu groaned, grabbing the doorframe and wrenching himself properly upright, “You’re _heavy.”_

How such a small body could house that much strength and energy, Ritsu would never know. Leo pouted as Ritsu pried him off of himself, pushing him towards an amused (and maybe a little disgruntled) Izumi before flopping down onto the floor to get under the kotatsu. Finally, it was warm again. Ritsu might just be able to fall asleep right here-

“I’m so glad you’re alive, Rittsu!” Leo wailed, dramatically plopping down next to Ritsu to get under the kotatsu as well. “We thought you might have died! Everyone was worried, even Sena!”

“I was _not,”_ Izumi said flatly, and Leo threw a pencil at him. Izumi dodged and threw a balled-up piece of paper back in retaliation. “If anything, Kuma-kun, I was _annoyed._ I still am. What the hell were you thinking, giving us all that bullcrap about how you were fine and getting onstage with a fucking migraine, did you even think for a _second_ about-”

“What Izumi-chan is _saying,”_ interrupted a syrupy-sweet voice from the doorway, “is that he was probably the most worried out of all of us. You should’ve seen his face when you collapsed, Ritsu-chan, he ran over to you faster than I’ve ever seen him run-”

“Shut _up,_ Naru-kun-”

“-And he even let you use him as a lap pillow. Can you believe that? _Izumi-chan.”_ Arashi giggled as she sat down on Ritsu’s other side, pointedly ignoring Izumi’s protests. “I didn’t think anyone but Ousama had that privilege. Maybe I should try falling unconscious just to see if Izumi-chan would do the same for me.”

“Please don’t, Narukami-senpai,” Tsukasa said, sounding all-suffering as he entered the studio, shutting the door behind him. Ritsu watched as he glanced over at Leo, who was now wrestling Izumi off the chair the silver-haired had been sitting on and dragging him under the kotatsu, yelling something about how Sena was, at heart, _his_ lap pillow and no one else’s. Tsukasa then proceeded to look in the complete other direction and approach the kotatsu himself. “The last thing we need is more of our members falling unconscious after lives.”

Arashi hummed in agreement as Tsukasa got under the kotatsu. For once, their junior made no comment about idling their time away in the warmth rather than practising or having a productive meeting. “Ritsu-senpai.”

Ritsu blinked, briefly caught off-guard by the seriousness reflected in the lavender gaze directed his way. “Yeah, Suu-chan?”

“I would appreciate it if you refrained from letting yourself fall into such a condition again,” Tsukasa said, for once not protesting the nickname as well. “However individualistic Knights may be, we still care for one another deeply, and nobody at this table was not worried about you yesterday. Please speak to us if you ever experience such discomfort again. However insignificant, we will do everything we can to ease your burdens.”

Ritsu blinked again- was his vision getting blurry, all of a sudden? This wasn’t another headache, was it- _ah._

“Don’t cry, Rittsu! We’re here for you!” Leo launched himself at Ritsu once again, throwing his arms around his shoulders and hugging him so tightly Ritsu felt he might burst. “That’s what family is for, after all!”

_Family, huh._

Ritsu’s lips curved slightly upwards. Izumi was shouting something in the background, Arashi was laughing, and Tsukasa was trying to get everything back in order. Through the studio’s window, if Ritsu looked hard enough, he was sure he’d be able to catch sight of a certain redhead slaving away in the student council room in the building opposite.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, for no one else to hear as Leo turned to say something to Arashi that made the blonde snort and Izumi yell something in dissent. Tsukasa sighed, turning away to get a pen from his schoolbag- meaning to finally convert this chaos into some semblance of a meeting, presumably. “Family.”


End file.
